


The Money Shot

by salire



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-04
Updated: 2009-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salire/pseuds/salire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is a stubborn pain in the ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Money Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/collarkink/516.html?thread=164100#t164100).

Peter is a stubborn pain in the ass. Neal loves him, he really does (he hasn't said it yet, neither of them have; he doesn't feel like either of them needs to actually _vocalize_ anything), but he's just so set in his ways.

He's worn the same damn suit for at least the past five years, after all. Change is not something Peter gets excited about. Unfortunately, this extends to the bedroom.

Don't get him wrong; Neal loves sex with Peter. The man was blessed with these hands that seem to find every little part of Neal that makes him feel like he's coming apart- and he's not even talking about his dick. Apparently, and even Neal didn't know this, there's a place right behind Neal's ear that can get him instantly hard, and if Peter presses behind Neal's knees, a tight coil of desire twists in his lower belly.

Maybe Neal is just spoiled sexually. He's had more than his fair share of partners, he'll admit, and most of them were very curious and very willing. Or maybe he's developed ADHD, unable to pay attention to anything for too long, no matter how good.

Because Peter is very good at sex. But he's so _vanilla_. Peter's sexual vocabulary is pretty much limited to blowjobs, handjobs, missionary, and doggie-style. And Neal had to actually _convince him_ to sixty-nine. Come on. It's a double blowjob. What is there to be apprehensive about? But for Peter, it was a big deal somehow.

So, when Neal has a filthy dream involving giving Peter an absolutely mind-blowing blowjob and then having Peter come all over his face, and he wakes up so hard it takes all of two strokes before he's done for, he already knows that it will never, ever happen. Ever. _Ever_.

But the dream strikes the fancy of the Imp of the Perverse, and Neal starts to wake up with a raging hard on just about every single night.

Sex doesn't cure it either. He has Peter fuck him until he's raw and gives Peter so many blowjobs for a week, he's pretty sure that Peter is incapable of even producing proper amounts of semen anymore.

Peter actually has to start turning him away. When he picks up Neal for work one morning, Neal shoves him into his room and dives for his pants. Peter looks startled and grabs Neal's hands to stop him. "Neal, what the hell are you doing?"

Neal looks up at him, eyes dilated, and asks, "What?"

Peter pulls him back to his feet. "You've been going insane or something lately. Are you okay?"

Neal bites his lip, trying to ignore the deep pull of want in his abdomen. "I'm. Fine. I've just been really worked up, I guess."

Peter's brow furrows. "You're starting to worry me. I mean, I'm getting an Indian burn at this point."

"Yeah, I," Neal swallows. "I'm sorry. Let me go get dressed. I'll be right back." He ends up jacking off in the bathroom and throwing his clothes on in record time.

Neal forces himself to leave Peter alone, but the self-isolation comes with a terrible price. The dreams become more vivid. He can actually feel the wetness of the come on his face, the stickiness of it, the surprise of it suddenly splashing against his cheeks, and when he wakes up, he feels like he's going to die he's so hard.

He gives Peter four days to recover. The fourth night, when he wakes up yet again, covered in a thin sheen of sweat with his hand already in his pajama pants, he decides that enough is enough. As soon as he releases, he snatches his phone from the nightstand and texts Peter, 'You better be healed by now because I'm going down on you tomorrow, whether you like it or not.'

Neal gets Peter's reply just before he arrives at June's house to pick him up, a plain, simple, 'Okay.' Neal isn't sure if that's an, 'Okay, you can ravage me, and I won't shoot you,' or, 'Okay, but you won't come out of this with all of your limbs in tact,' but he doesn't really care.

He tries to be strategic about it. Instead of just grabbing Peter like last time, Neal decides to wait until they're back at Peter's house. That way, Peter can feel as comfortable with his surroundings as possible. Maybe if he's okay with everything else, he'll be willing to step outside of his comfort zone.

(Neal thinks that things should not be this difficult. He's asking Peter to _come on his face_. That's supposed to be on the List of Ultimate Fantasies or something. Ugh, he is such an ass.)

He gives Peter a nice, smooth lead in, heavy flirting; then gentle, careful touching, fixing his tie, brushing the tips of their fingers together; then kissing, chaste at first, heavier and hotter as Peter pulls him inside.

But, eventually, he has to ask for it.

He waits until they're both half dressed and Peter is kissing his collarbone. Then, using his best breathy voice, he asks, "Peter, please, I. Come on my face, please."

Peter stops his careful work on Neal's skin to raise his head and look at him, brow furrowed. "What?"

Neal wants to pull his hair out. It's not like it was an easy thing to ask for in the first place, let alone to ask for _twice_. "I want to give you a blowjob, and I want you to come on my face."

Peter seems surprised. "Neal, I don't know if-"

"Peter, _please_," Neal begs. God, he's so sick of being turned on by this stupid dream and his own stupid imaginings of what this will be like.

"But," Peter pauses, his lips moving without sound, like he doesn't know what to say. "But I didn't think people actually liked that. Or like. The receiver didn't like it."

Neal stares at him. "Oh my God, you have got to be kidding me." He drops to his knees, right there in the living room, and starts to unfasten Peter's pants as fast as humanly possible. "You watch too much porn. Of course the receiver likes it. Especially if the receiver actually asks for it. Christ, Peter, have you been holding out just because you're afraid you'll humiliate me?"

Peter hisses in a breath when Neal starts stroking his dick. "I don't want to treat you like an eighteen year old porn star. That can't be a bad thing."

"You can't humiliate me, Peter. I wouldn't _let_ you." He flicks his tongue over the head of Peter's dick, unbuttoning his own pants with his free hand. "Sex is about trust. I trust you, and I know my own boundaries. Now, I'm about to go down on you until you come on my face. Speak now or forever hold your peace."

Neal doesn't really give him a chance to object. He just takes Peter into his mouth, reveling in the thick weight of him on his tongue. Peter isn't freakishly gigantic or anything, but he's still pretty big, and Neal's lips stretch to accommodate him.

"Neal," Peter bites out, gritting his teeth.

His hands find their way into Neal's hair, curling into it, and Neal hums appreciatively. He remembers having to put Peter's hands on his head himself, how Peter kept hesitating, and how Neal had been so impatient for him to just go with the flow already. Sex shouldn't be so worrisome to _anyone_, let alone the person _he_ is having sex with. He's not a porcelain doll, after all.

He bobs his head, pushing himself to take more of Peter in, widening his throat a little more with each move back down until he can remove his hand from the base of Peter's dick and slowly, so slowly, take all of him in.

Peter's grip on his hair tightens, and his breath is coming fast. Neal looks up at him, appreciates the way Peter's cheeks are flushed, how his eyes flutter open and closed, fighting to watch Neal and to thoroughly enjoy what's happening at the same time.

Neal keeps Peter down for as long as he can stand before pulling off, his tongue swirling around the head of Peter's dick, then beneath it. He finds a spot about halfway down that makes Peter's knees buckle when he sucks on it, and he focuses on that one spot until Peter pulls his hair again.

"Neal," Peter gasps, "I, I'm going to, if you don't stop."

Neal shifts back onto his heels, excited. This is it, the part he's been so ready for the past couple of weeks. "Come on, Peter," he encourages. His hand strokes up Peter's dick, his thumb pressing into that special spot, until Peter's hips suddenly jerk, and he comes.

It hits Neal suddenly and surprises him, even though he knew what was about to happen. It's searingly hot against his cheeks, sticky and wet. It's better than Neal ever dreamed it would be.

"Hey," Peter says, swiping his thumb over Neal's lip. Neal catches the thumb in his mouth, licking the come off. It's bitter and thick and _Peter_, and Neal enjoys it much more than he probably should. Peter's fingers ghost over his cheeks, gathering up come and letting Neal lick it off his fingers until he's clean.

Peter's mouth drops open at the show Neal is putting on, making a soft sound of approval before lowering himself down to Neal's level, his breathing still a bit erratic. "You look. Pretty."

Neal smiles, his hand curling around his own dick and pulling it. He's still hard, but it's less urgent than before. "Thanks."

Peter's hand folds over his, and he leans forward, kissing Neal.

Neal moans quietly, and Peter takes the opportunity to dart his tongue into Neal's mouth. Neal knows that he can taste himself there, and he wonders if Peter enjoys it, or if he tolerates it to keep kissing him. He's not sure which is the better reason.

"Peter," he mutters, his free hand coming up to press against the back of Peter's neck, pulling him closer. His hips thrust into their hands until he's over the edge, coming with a gasp.

He drops his head into Peter's throat, focusing on just breathing for a moment. He nuzzles Peter's neck and hums. "I told you it would be good."

Peter's arms come around Neal's waist, pulling them into a sitting position as he leans against the wall. "Shut up."

"Now, Peter, when have you ever known me to do that?"

Peter snorts. "Hmph. Never."

Neal presses a kiss to Peter's jaw, closes his eyes and smiles, finally content.


End file.
